


A Hand to Hold

by orphan_account



Series: Requiem of Memories [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Spoilers up to and including Let's Kill Hitler (06x08)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:33:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As she watched her Time Lord writhe in pain, she wished for a body, for a hand, for a way to touch him and ease his pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hand to Hold

She could feel his pain just as she could feel the poison surging through his system, and she could feel his helplessness and it mixed with her helplessness and it stung. Now more than ever she missed that funny little body that she had worn for so short a time. She wanted to be alive, to be able to hold him, to be able comfort him. She wanted to heal her oldest and best friend, the half mad Time Lord who she had stolen and who had stolen her.

So when he stumbled through her door and asked, begged, pleaded for help, she reacted on instinct and projected the image of the first person she thought of (because he was the only one she was thinking of), but he immediately protested, although even if he hadn't, the rush of disgust at seeing his own face looking down at him would have been enough. So she searched through her data banks and quickly chose her pink and yellow one: the Bad Wolf and the Valiant Child. But that didn't elicit the reaction that she had been hoping for. She felt the image take his breath away and she felt the prick of longing and loss that he felt. Then she brought out the Brave Solider and the DoctorDonna in quick succession. Finally, with his guilt and longing loud in her ears, she sorted to the bottom of her data banks and found the fragments of data necessary to create a hologram of a young Orangey one. He relaxed slightly, at least until another spasm of pain hit him, but she wished with all her might that she could make her voice interface nicer, more human, more like the real Orange one who had greeted her mad man when he had climbed out of his magic box in her back garden. Because, as she starred at her beloved Oncoming Storm, the man that had half an hour left to live, she knew that now more than ever he needed a hand to hold.

**Author's Note:**

> Second part of a rewritten drabble series from FF.net.


End file.
